Fate or Coincidence?

Most of our discussion the past week has been about Lee. This is fairly obvious considering he's a main character and we've nearly reached the climatic event, but compared to previous discussions on Lee they've been different. We aren't talking about him per se, or even how deeply connected he is to a larger group of people that guided him, but rather fate and whether or not it really exists for Lee. Now, we may have an answer to that when we think to our lives, but when we think about it in terms of Lee and the bizarre events that have all somehow led up to this oddly perfect plan (in theory), it seems like there may be more than meets the eye. Once again, there is the possibility of us just being human and trying to find a pattern in anything remotely similar, so that's important to keep in mind. 

Like I previously said, quite a bit of our conversations in class end up being centered around Lee and whether or not fate may be involved in his life. The way I read the class initially was that it was kind of a joke, but then Ferrie brought it up to Lee and suddenly we all started to legitimately think about whether Lee's life is being steered by a force like fate. Things juts align too well for Lee's involvement in the conspiracy, such as him somehow always being in the right (or wrong) place just when it's most crucial, he's already made multiple false identities for himself right when he needs to, the place he works just happens to be a prime snipers nest just to name a few. It seems too perfect, even if yet another outside party was steering Lee. Maybe it is just coincidence, maybe it is something more, but we'll never know. Personally, I'm skeptical that fate had anything to do with Lee, but I will say, it's pretty convincing even if DeLillo is inserting things here and there to make it seem like fate is active in this plot.     

Developing a Conspiracy: Forwards and Backwards

Coming out of Kindred and into Libra, I wasn't too sure how Libra would strike me. However, over the past week I've come to really enjoy Libra. Theory crafting and conspiracies are my thing as I've come to realize. While I'm not intimately acquainted with the deepest parts of theories on the JFK assassination, I think that helps this novel and makes it more interesting. We are revealed information on the matter in an unpredictable way comparable to how the events unfold in the novel or even how they happened in the past. As interesting as it is to see DeLillo reconstruct Lee Harvey Oswald's life from what we know about him, I find it quite intriguing how DeLillo takes the unexplainable and makes a new theory that combines various other theories on the assassination and tries to connect them into a, still bizarre, but mildly coherent theory in itself. We're able to connect dots and make our own theories as DeLillo has Win, Parmenter, and Banister enact their devious plans.

In itself this isn't anything particularly special, but akin to Kindred, our knowledge of the end of the matter influences how we perceive the events happening in the moment. We understand that Lee Harvey Oswald will be heavily involved in the conspiracy, JFK will be killed, and the USA does not enact essentially another attempt at Castro's life after. This leaves us in a position similar to the conspirators, assuming it works but not knowing how the process will play out. They try to connect the dots towards a goal, gathering information as they come by it, start to finish. We try to connect the dots from the result, discovering the process, finish to start.

There's still plenty of the novel left for the plan to come together in one form or another, so we still have plenty of time to work it out for ourselves. I can only imagine just how deep the conspiracy goes.

Contemplating Perception

Plenty of discussion we've had has been about the effects of the Antebellum South on the people who are already living in the time period, Dana and Kevin from the 20th century, and ourselves from the 21st century. Gradually the conversations have built upon one another as Dana has traveled to and returned from the 19th century, becoming ever more involved with how we may have dealt with the situations that Dana has been put in. Rather, we've talked about how we can't really understand the situations we read about in the same way Dana is experiencing them or easily think about how characters like Rufus would act in a 20th or 21st century environment.

Frankly, it's almost infuriating to me that, unless we've gone through a similar experience (as wholly awful that would be), we can't fully connect with the characters or understand the motivations of characters like Rufus. Not justifying any actions taken, it's both confusing and sometime appalling just how those from the Antebellum South act, even though we know that the actions are based off of them living their entire lives in that environment. Because of this, I somehow can't find myself to totally despise Rufus, but I'm still leaning over the edge of hating him for a multitude of obvious reasons. In a similar vein, though not in a negative way, it's becoming more and more apparent how Alice seems to be acting like Dana, except from a different time (which brings up even more quandaries in my mind when it comes to the situation Dana is in). Really our lack of being able to perceive the world in the same way Dana does or experience it the same way either, works better for us as readers. We can experience a similar sense of disgust and shock without having to personally experience it. We just need to gut it out with Dana through her experiences.

So It Doesn't Go

                Though I’ve already read Slaughterhouse Five a couple of times, the insight I’ve gotten from class has been a bit different from my personal interpretation. Generally speaking, I came to the same conclusion my class did about Billy and Tralfamadore, but without the basis or deeper understanding of the irony Vonnegut includes in the novel. One of these ironic statements that I somehow managed to gloss over was the ever present “so it goes.” I’m actually astonished I managed to miss how often it was used, only really seeming to notice it with the larger incidents such as the fire bombing. I missed the irony in the lesser moments such as “The water was dead. So it goes.” On one hand, the statement serves as a statement on death to undermine it, and on the other serves to outrage. In my mind, the provoking “so it goes” is certainly one of the most important aspects of the novel in terms of how it gets us as readers to reevaluate the scenes we are reading and the prospects of war.

                Obviously, war is terrible and causes suffering for all involved, but when Vonnegut chooses to describe the scenes of war and death with the statement “So it goes”, it drains the event of all weight and emotion behind it. Perhaps one of the best examples of this may be from the conversation between O’Hare and Vonnegut over the population of Dresden at the beginning of chapter 10:

On an average, 324,000 new babies are born into the world every day. During that same day, 10,000 persons, in an average, will have starved to death or died from malnutrition. So it goes. In addition, 123,000 persons will die for other reasons. So it goes. This leaves a net gain of about 191,000 each day in the world.

                Any sort of emotion that may have been felt by reading that 10,000, on average, die of malnutrition daily and over a 100,000 more die from other causes as well is just gone. Frankly, it’s disconcerting how it’s just passed by like, “It just happens. Oh well! Let’s move on with life.” We get upset at the injustices of the events or the lack of caring behind the loss of life, and by doing so, fulfill the other aspect of “so it goes”. The statement just sticks out like a sore thumb with the moment it is injected into. Because of this jarring contrast, we get up in arms at these extreme cases of death, longing to do something about it, but not with more violence. If you think about it then, Vonnegut did manage to make a sort of anti-war novel, discouraging violence and encouraging action against the violence and war. That’s not to say that the message can be taken the wrong way, especially considering the end of Billy’s story and his family, but with an understanding of “so it goes”, it does succeed at least on some level.     

A Short Thought on What is Mumbo Jumbo and Why

                Mumbo Jumbo is a novel that, after having read it, I feel like I have gotten more out of it than just another read. The multitude of important ideas and topics that Reed calls attention to are represented in a way that, for some reason sticks with the reader better than another form of the medium or even another medium. The question of “What if Mumbo Jumbo was told in a lecture format?” came up in class today and the general response to it was “It wouldn’t have worked they way it did as a novel.” Which again raises another question: Why does Mumbo Jumbo stand out the way it does when it comes to how Reed portrays the novel?

                From a literary standpoint, Mumbo Jumbo, apart from its unconventional formatting, seems to have that extra something that novels of a similar type don’t have. We brought up how Mumbo Jumbo fits the framework for genres such as Historical Thriller and Detective nearly to a T, but that lack of fitting either of those entire is what seems to classify it as almost a whole new genre unless it just fits into the very general genre of Satire. That being said, Mumbo Jumbo is a satire down to the smallest details like spelling of words for instance. Humor is found in the caricature antagonists, the interspersing of scenes like Abdul’s desk, and wherever you look to be honest. The satire Reed uses is established as the norm from the start, so it isn’t jarring when reading, but more serves the purpose of highlighting those small details that, in a more serious novel may be glossed over entirely. The humor helps these deeper topics be noticed and easier to digest in some ways, which also lets Reed expound more on said topics. Mumbo Jumbo fits squarely in as a Satire in its style, however, I feel Mumbo Jumbo something more than just Satire, but I can’t place my finger on it. Any thoughts?   

The Allure of the Unknowing

Even though we’ve finished Ragtime and moved on to Mumbo Jumbo, I feel that we didn’t quite finish learning about everyone in the book. In fact, spoilers, most of our main cast just dies at the end and I still feel that some of them felt as alien as ever. We do get to learn more about Coalhouse and Tateh and Younger Brother and Mother, but did we really get to know them better? I feel as if Doctorow had a specific goal in mind when having certain characters that we feel like we know everything about and with characters we know next to nothing about. For the most part, the ones we tend to know about are the historical figures, and the ones we know near nothing about are the characters of the family and Coalhouse. A bit like history in a way. We think we know a person whose been put into a history book because the information is written down and widely accepted, but we really don't, we just know about everything records say about them. Who’s to say that Doctorow’s Evelyn Nesbit is falsified? Maybe she did fade out of the public eye to visit poorer districts and become an anonymous donor to Emma Goldman’s efforts. Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t, but regardless, we feel as if we know her because apparently her life is documented in the history books. However, we also know that most of the information we have on her is slanted because of the media and her public image at the time, so it’s almost if by default we don’t know her at all, we just know about her.

Building on this is the fact that the one person we think should have been put into the history books, Coalhouse Walker, isn’t in any recorded events. He is oddly lacking when it comes to information on him, and it stands out to us significantly more than the characters who Doctorow seems to know intimately. Despite this, he also feels the most like a realistic figure out of the cast. We sympathize with him often and seem to find more ways to understand him even though he is the character most veiled in mystery. All of the historical figures seem so removed from reality in their own way (ie. Ford is like a machine, Morgan feels transcended above the common folk, etc.). In reality, we really do learn the least about the family and Coalhouse, but we get to know them better than anyone else. In contrast, we learn the most about the historical figures and what their lives could have been like, but we know them the least. They still feel like some sort of legend instead of human beings, and it raises the question once again: Is there a difference between history and fiction?

Dwelling on Passive Remarks

          So we've finished a decent amount of Ragtime by E. L. Doctorow, and although we've read some seriously postmodern passages and shocking topics, Doctorow's writing style is still what intrigues me the most. Namely how with most introductions of characters, applying most recently to his characters of Henry Ford and J. P. Morgan. Doctorow opts to write with a more passive voice, applying heavy satire all the while. Personally I haven't read many books utilizing this sort of a style, yet it permeates the entirety of Ragtime in some way or another. Though the character introductions tend to have less striking descriptions of events or people in the passive voice, such as the description of the poverty balls or the child workers in earlier chapters for instance, the character introductions have this passive voice satire more consistently.
      
          Through the use of passive voice, everything must be taken with a grain of salt. Chapter 18, where we are introduced to Henry Ford, is a prime example of Doctorow's passive satire. It becomes so littered with satire that it's hard to tell what is and isn't meant to be satire. On one hand Doctorow says things like "Instead of having one man learn the hundreds of tasks in the building of one motorcar, walking him hither and yon to pick out the parts from a general inventory, why not stand him in his place, have him do just one task over and over, and let the parts come past him on moving belts. Thus the worker's mental capacity would not be taxed." and "He allotted sixty seconds on his pocket watch for a display of sentiment. Then he sent everyone back to work.", but also says calls him a genius without any other implications. Additionally, his allotment of a mere sixty seconds can be seen as admirable dedication to his work. The entire chapter is filled with these sorts of statements that are blatantly satirical, but also statements that can be read one way the first time, a different way a second time, and possibly even a third meaning the third time. It's quite perplexing to have a reading where, when you do a double-take, you pick up another understanding of the moment. The passive voice is a brilliant tool to make scenes like Ford's introduction seem just off enough for us to second guess ourselves and search for the meaning behind the satire. I'm personally bouncing back and forth ideas on what exactly Doctorow intended for the reader to interpret in this section (pre-meeting with J. P. Morgan) and how that fits into his meeting with Morgan.  Regardless, Doctorow's passive voice through the novel is an effective medium for the hypercritical satire he imposes constantly in my opinion. 

Change comes around (New Class!)

To all who might be following this blog after the roughly 6 month gap between posts, this blog is going to be used for the History as Fiction class posts until further notice.

Just a friendly PSA.

Have a good afternoon!